


Her Majesty's Misfortunate Maid and the Pirates

by Bookah



Series: Her Majesty's Misfortunate Maid [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Airships, Butlers, Humor, Maids, Pirates, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookah/pseuds/Bookah
Summary: Violet Jessup is a simple maid aboard Her Majesty's Air Ship Mungo Park with a penchant for troublesome inventions. When the ship is attacked by pirates will she become the subject of those most Victorian of sordid tales, or escape unsullied? The first of a series of Steam Punk Serials. Rated T for archaic sordid language, slightly suggestive allusions, and horrible accents.





	Her Majesty's Misfortunate Maid and the Pirates

"But I'm 23! I'm past my prime already!" The maid sitting at the end of the counter buried her head in her arms atop the bar. "I'm an old maid! I'm never going to marry."

The barkeep quietly continued to polish glasses, the brass color of his metallic skin glinting under the lights of the lounge. He was a decent enough sort, as barkeepers go. Quiet, conscientious, very good at mixing over 1000 different drinks, and capable of destroying entire armies without messing his dapper vest and undershirt ensemble. He was also an excellent listener. He wasn't nearly so good at actually talking, having a vocabulary limited to describing the list of drinks he could serve, but you can't have everything.

A glass clinked next to the maid. Sarsaparilla was the answers to the poor barmaid's woes, he thought. Well, in as much as he could think. He at least seemed to have enough mental capacity to realize that if she was this maudlin on fizzy soft drinks, real alcohol was probably out of the question.

"He was so charming, though! And I didn't really mind that he was just a longshoreman! We could have settled down, had a nice little cottage overlooking the cliffs, and a dozen children. He could have worked at the airship docks, and I could have kept house for him, and then he'd come home to dinner, and we'd watch the airships go by sitting in the garden. It would have been wonderful! Like a dream!" The girl swept up her glass of sarsaparilla and downed it in a shot, then hiccupped as the bubbles went straight to her diaphragm. "Maybe I shouldn't have accepted this position."

"Ms. Jessup," a stern voice spoke from behind her. Alfred Jeeves, the Chief Butler, had materialized behind her with all the silence and unobtrusiveness that a long line of British Butlers had spent nearly a millennium developing. "I couldn't agree more. You shouldn't have accepted this assignment. However, Captain Morgan insisted on securing you a position on this ship, and I shall abide by his decision."

Even without turning around, Violet Jessup, 1st class maid aboard Her Majesty's Air Ship Mungo Park could tell that the little vein in Jeeve's forehead was throbbing. She'd worked with him before, when Captain Morgan had captained another ship she'd been aboard, and the encounters between her and his personal Butler (with a capital B ) had been memorable. She jerked upright, face making an "Oh!" that went unvoiced, eyes wide with fear.

Jeeves continued on, his voice slow, metered, and cutting. "Ms. Jessup, I am going to leave aside for now the fact that you are here, in the lounge, enjoying a little relaxation instead of attending to your duties. The reason for that would be that I have larger concerns. To wit, the contraption I discovered in Ms. Airheart's quarters. it has all the signs of being one of your addle minded schemes, and I desire an explanation."

Violet nibbled her lip for a few seconds. The Chief Butler had presented himself to the passengers roughly three minutes ago. In order for him to have made it into Ms. Airheart's, locate her latest invention, and then return, he would have only been able to analyze it for about forty-five seconds. Naturally, this means he would not have been able to sufficiently watch it to realize that this time it was actually working as she'd intended, and that, in fact, she was still accomplishing her duties while having a little refresher.

"It's an automated dusting machine, sir," she answered, still not turning about. She placed her hand demurely in her lap, and began to recite her work for him. "I combined a feather duster with a spring motivator and a rocker arm, then attached wheels to the side that are driven by the same spring and cog assembly as the feather duster. Then I put a squeegee and a tank of varnish on the back. All you have to do is wind it up and set it in an area needing dusting, and it will do the work twice as fast as a person could. I figure next I can give it a pair of arms so that it can move vases out of the way an"

"MS. JESsup..." Violet winced as the Chief Butler's voice momentarily spoke at a level slightly above circumspect (though still not enough to turn the heads of any of the guests.) "I find the dubious value of your interest in these contraptions to only be exceeded by the advisability of letting you actually indulge this interest. I will not have you continue to endanger this vessel and Captain Morgan's reputation any further. There will be no more 'inventions' from you, do you understand me?"

Violet rose from the stool and turned primly towards Alfred, her face lowered as befit her station. "Yes, si..." Her voice trailed off as she took in the appearance of what she could see of him from her submissive position. He was covered in a fine, gray powder, with a particularly large dust bunny clinging to the back of one knee of his neatly pressed trousers. Several stains were visible, making the black of the cloth even blacker. "What..." she gasped.

"It seems, Ms. Jessup, that your little contraption cannot distinguish between the top of a writing table, and a member of this ship's complement. You can imagine my surprise when it attempted to varnish me."

"I'm terribly sorry! I was so sure I had it right this time!" Violet's fair skin was turning a particularly vibrant shade of red as she wrung her hands together before her.

"Just... go throw that thing overboard and return to your duties, Ms. Jessup. We will talk more about this little incident later. After I have changed into something presentable."

"Yes, sir."

Violet was walking back from the hold, where she had discreetly stashed her little device for later improvements when the alarm klaxon sounded. Hiking her skirts up just enough to enable herself to run without quite revealing her ankles, she hurried to the 1st class accommodations deck (idly wondering why they bothered calling it "1st class" when there was no other class aboard). After all, as one of the ship's crew, she had been trained in how to respond to emergencies.

If the ship was on fire, it was her duty to help ready the passengers to board the emergency bubbles that would be tossed overboard and then float down to the surface below. If the ship was crashing, she was to help wrap them in mattresses to pad them against the sudden stop at the end of the fall. If the ship was out of tea, well, it was her duty to try to keep the passengers from panicking while an immediate SOS was sent out. And if it was pirates…

Well, she certainly had been hoping it wasn't pirates. She'd been through two pirate attacks before. The first time, the pirates had been in a hurry, and had known exactly what they were looking for. They'd boarded, found a chest in the hold, and hauled it away before anyone really knew what was happening. The second the pirates had been in much less of a rush, but His Majesty's Airship Indeflowerable had come along and forced the pirates to flee before anything untoward had happened.

"Attention all hands!" Captain Morgan's voice called out from the brass horn mounted above a hatch in the passageway. "We are about to be boarded by pirates. Prepare to repel boarders! All noncombatants please report to your cabin at once."

As was only proper, Violet waited until she had descended two decks and closed herself within her cabin before resorting to panic. It wouldn't have done to have gone screaming down the hallways after the announcement. She was British, after all, and as such she had appearances to maintain. Once she was in her cabin, however, protocol allowed for more leeway in her behavior, which she duly began to exercise the moment the hatch swung shut.

Her companion, named Elizabeth, doubtless worried that the volume of sound would be audible three decks up, attempted to shush Violet. "Now, don't fret. I'm sure that pirates wouldn't attack a ship as important and prominent as ours! Why, it would be unimaginable that they'd be so foolish!"

"But they would, Lizzie!" Violet gasped. "Haven't you ever read any of the stories?" She leaned forward and clutched her bunk-mate's hands between hers. "They'll board, and they'll come in to loot and... to commit rapine upon us! Then they'll carry us away to their ship to be their harem-clothed pleasure slaves! I can't be a pleasure slave! I've never known a man!"

Lizzie pulled her hands away and gave Violet a cross look. "Violet, don't be ridiculous. If such a thing should occur, just remember what the Queen has said!"

"Close your eyes and think of England?"   


"Violet..."

But before her fellow maid could explain which quote she had actually intended, (and divert Violet from wondering if being ravished really was as pleasant as the books made it seem, and whether or not that would make it harder to think of England) the small porthole to their room swung open and smashed against the bulkhead with a clang of metal on metal and a gust of air pressure being released.

"Ooch! I daena unnerstan wah yer thinkin, Angus!" A head poked in through the porthole, and looked around. "There's naught here but a wee cabin! We should be makin our way through the big'uns like the other clansmen!"

"Hurry oop and get yer bollux in there, Angus!" A voice came from outside, and the head suddenly shot forward as it's owner was clearly shoved from behind. As he fell to the deck, the source of the second voice popped his head in through the porthole. "We're goin in through this'aen cause all the aethers are goin' in through the baeguns. They'll all be lootin up there, and we'd have to settle with thae dregs o'whatever they didna take! But here we get first dibs!"

"Well, tha was a low thing tae do to yer kin, Angus!" the fellow on teh deck objected. "Wha did ye push me fer?"

"Because ye were blockin the way, ye great oaf! What was I tae do, Angus? Stare at yer arse all raid?"

"Wait..." Lizzie stared at the two pirates. "You're both named Angus?"

"Aye," Angus said, this Angus being the one on the floor.

"But... why?" Violet asked.

"We're scottish!" Angus replied, this one being the Angus in the porthole. Violet found this explanation to be at least as reasonable as any other she might have gotten, given the circumstances. As such she simply nodded and waited while Angus glowered at the Angus on the floor. "Angus, ye lummox! Get oop and halp me through this porthole, I'm stuck!"

"Sorry Angus!" The thinner Angus popped up, took an ear in each hand, and began tugging away at the head sticking through the port hole. As he tugged, he pondered a moment, then spoke up. "Angus, there's a pair of lassies in here."

"Aye!" Angus replied with a surprising amount of gusto for someone being pulled painfully by his ears through a hole several inches smaller than the width of his shoulders. "That's where the rapine comes in, Angus!"

"But Angus, if we take th' time to commit rapine, we won't have time tae loot!"

"Angus, ye damned fool! Tha's why we throw them over a shoulder with one hand and loot wi' th' othar! We can take these bairns back over tae our lair and make them pleasure slaves after the lootin'!"

"Oh, thaes good, Angus!" Angus said. "I have those harem clothes from that wee little Barbary Airship from thae last raid."

"See!" Violet pointed out with glee. "I told you, 'Lizzie! Rapine!"

"Is this really the time, Violet?" Lizzie gave Viole a quelling look as she reached over and picked up a very thick-glassed leaded mirror. She hefted it, then brought it down on the head of Angus (the puller) hard enough to break the glass. Angus (the puller) gave a sickly smile, then slumped to the deck.

"Ooch! Ye ought naught have done that, lassy!" Angus (the pully) stated.

"Why not?" Lizzie replied. "Am I not allowed to defend my English person from northern barbarism?"

"Ooch, Aye, ye are!" Angus commented. "But ye should ha done that before I was able to finish squeezing into this wee cabin." He smiled at her from where he now stood, trousers slightly askew from his just completed narrow entry.

"Oh. I see." Lizzie nodded sagely. "Jolly good idea, that." With a pleasant smile she turned, opened the hatch, and bolted out into the passageway beyond.

"Lizzie?" Violet gabbled, then leaned out the hatch of the cabin to stare after the fleeing Lizzie. She then turned back to face Angus. "Um... How do you do?" She gave a curtsey.

"Oh, Most faer, lass. Thankee. Now, I've thangs tae do, so if ye don mind, we'll attend tae the rapine later. For now, just bea a goo lass there an keep quiet." He scooped Violet over his shoulder and hauled her down the passageway as she screamed and kicked her heels in a way that probably exposed her pettycoats in a most unseemly fashion.

The pair proceeded in this fashion past a variety of sights. There was the Gallant Captain of Her Majesty's Coldstream Guards personally dueling four pirates at once. A little further on they moved past the rather mad eccentric doctor unleashing strange energies from his latest contraption while cackling madly. (Unfortunately, he was targeting random bulkheads which would later need repair rather than pirates.) Next they encountered the poorly disguised woman-pretending-to-be-a-cabin-boy that all ships were required to have aboard in accordance with a Parliamentary Decree. And, of course, the ship drunk was proceeding to brain every pirate he could reach with his flagon as they passed through the lounge.

Throughout this panoply of scenes, Violet continued the unseemly kicking of her feet, revealing her petticoats and bloomers in a most inappropriate . Her squeals and objections went completely unanswered by the Scotsman, not that she'd have necessarily understood his answers had he given them. Underlying her objections could be heard the sounds of looting, pillaging, (no rapine, yet. These Scots seemed to have priorities) and the 1812 Overture.

As Angus ran past the entry to the linen closet, Alfred, dusting a few flecks of plaster off his shoulder, leaned out. "MS. JESSUP! Cease that horrid noise at once! You will represent this ship with some sense of decorum!"

"Yes, sir!" Violet called back, and proceeded to lay more quiescently, her hands demurely keeping her skirt well in place in spite of Angus' bouncy gait.

Angus glanced over at her at this sudden change in demeanor. "Ooch! Why dinna I think o' that?"

"You're not a British butler. It wouldn't have worked," Viola responded.

"Ye ha' a point, lass." Angus nodded thoughtfully as he swept up a nice silver candelabra and a rather sharp looking tatted doily from a small table along the way. "Now, jes hold these for me for a moment." He turned sharply, dodging into a cabin. He eyed the large window, then gave a nod. "Aye, that'll do."

"Do for what?" Violet asked.

"Exiting, lass. I need ta put ye down if'n I'm ta get more loot. And since aye don' want ye to be escaping, tha means takin ye to th' lair."

"Oh! I see." Violet nodded. "Permission to scream and attempt to fight you off, sir?"

"Och! Granted lass!"

"Thank you," Violet said gracefully. Proper observances had to be kept up, after all. She then closed her eyes and began to scream and shout, kicking her feet again and pounding on Angus' back with her tiny pale hands.

"ANGUS!" a deep, loud voice bellowed. "Wha d'ye think yer doin?"

"Cap'n Angus!" Angus jumped up, dropping Violet onto her delicate feet. "I was just taken this wee bairn off t' be properly rapined later."

Violet found herself undecided as to what to do at this point. On the one hand, she was fairly certain that proper procedures required her to faint dead away at this announcement. On the other hand, doing so was very likely to result in her laying untidily on the deck, and there was no way the Chief Butler would forgive her for creating such a mess. Uncertain as to which course of action would best fit the situation she turned about, thinking perhaps seeing the visage of the Pirate Captain might help with her decision.

Captain Angus was an admittedly large man. His flaming red beard descended down his chest in several tight braids. Dark eyes peered out from under bushy read eyebrows. His nose was centered on his face, or at least Violet presumed this to be the case. The mustache above the beard was large enough to prevent certainty.

"Y' daft fool!" Captain Angus roared. "Don' ye know ye're suppose ta be taken' th' designated helpless damsel?"

Angus turned and gawked at Violet. Violet gawked back. "Helpless damsel?" she asked.

"Aye, it's required, don' ye know? Every ship is required b' international treaty to be equipped w' a helpless damsel t' be rescued. An ye ain' her!"

"But… how do you know I'm not she?" Violet asked. "I am a damsel, and rather helpless."

"Aye, that ye are, lass," Cap'n Angus replied. "But ye happen t' be a maid, an that means ye are actually useful for someat."

"Tell that to the Chief Butler," Violet muttered.

"Cap'n Angus!" another pirate dashed in. "Look ere! I found someat in th' hold!"

"My varnisher!" Violet gasped.

"Varnisher?" Cap'n Angus arched an eyebrow. "An' how does that be workin?"

"Oh!" Violet reached out and took the device from Angus (naturally). "Well, you just twist the key in it, then set it down and…"

The chaos that ensued was quite calamitous and substantial. It would be improper to described what happened, given that there are ladies who read this publication. We shall simply state for the record that automated varnishers, feather dusters, and kilts are a most unfortunate combination. In time the varnisher was destroyed, Angus (no, we're not sure which one) was properly sedated and bandaged, and Violet was tied up with an excessive amount of rope and tossed into a corner most unceremoniously. Sighing, she began looking around.

"Oh!" She gasped. Her eyes widened. A second time, louder now, she exclaimed. "OH! Oh my! Oh no!"

Heads turned.

"Would you... Oh, Oh would you look at this place? This... this mess! Oh this is... simply awful! AWFUL!"

It was true. The carpet had been trampled and was stained with furniture polish and muddy boot prints. The curtains were torn and smeared with grease. The furnishings had been thoroughly upset. And the sign beside the door reading "By order of Her Majesty, the playing of 'Frère Jacques' is forbidden upon pain of being made to eat pate." was 3 degrees off plumb. At the sight of this, Violet's lower lip began trembling.

Several of the pirates began shuffling about a bit nervously.

"Oh this is terrible. This is horrible! Why, when the Chief Butler sees this mess..." The girl began to softly cry.

"Och! Angus! What dae she sae?" one of the Scotsmen asked another.

"She saed, when th' Chief Butler sees th' mess..."

"Chief butler?" asked Angus. Another Angus. "Di she sae 'Chief Butler?'"

"Aye, Angus, tha she did," said the second.

All three pirates leaned in closer. "Er, lassy, did ye sae ye ha a Chief Butler?"

"Why, yes," Violet sniffled. "Of course! This is a British ship! Why, it would be horribly improper to be without a Chief Butler!"

The three men nodded sagely.

"Th' bonny thing is raeght, Angus."

"Aye, tha she is, Angus. Tis only tae be expected."

"Queen's ship an all that, aye. Why hadn't we thought of that, Angus?"

"Because ye aren' th' Cap'n," Cap'n Angus replied.

"Och! Aye," the Anguses replied. "That makes sense."

"Abou this Chief Butler," Cap'n Angus muttered.

"Oh! Yes!" Violet clapped her hands together. "And when he sees this mess..." she sniffled. "He's going to be horribly angry!"

By this point, several more pirates had crowded into the cabin. Mutters were heard. "Chief Butler..." "Terrible mess..." "Angus..." A crowd was beginning to form around Violet.

"Why, he'll... He'll scold me!" Violet sniffled again, her eyes beginning to water. "He'll scold me terribly, and tell me to clean up this mess, and the look in his eyes..." she wailed. "He'll look... disappointed!"

"No!" the pirates gasped. "Terrible..." came the whispers. "Scolded by a Chief Butler, tis a horrid faet, Angus!" "Och, aye! A Chief Butler's wrath..." "Poor baern..."

"And..." By this point, Violet was shuddering with sobs as tears ran down her cheeks. "And... He may not let me enjoy afternoon tea!"

There was a sharp in drawn intake of breaths from every pirate gathered. Even Cap'n Angus looked aghast. Or one had to assume so, given his beard. No afternoon tea? It was unthinkable!

"Och... Angus..." one of the pirates intoned.

"Aye?" the rest answered.

"D'ye think, maybe..." Angus asked.

"Aye!" Angus agreed.

"Begorah! Jesus Mary and Joseph! By faith we should help this 'ere Molly!"

The Scotsmen immediately agreed, and after tossing overboard the Irishman who’d just spoken up and whom no one could remember inviting to the party and which hasn't been previously mentioned in this tale, began to setting everything to rights as three of them patted the weeping Violet on the back and crooned gently to her trying to comfort and calm the maid. Tables were righted, table clothes straightened, brass polished, the carpet cleaned, and even the stacks of loot were neatened up and stacked in an orderly fashion.

"WHAT I' TH' NAEM O' ANGUS ARE YE DOING?" Cap'n Angus yelled.

"Och," Angus commented, though at this point we couldn't possibly know which Angus it was. "Well, the wea baern was weeping... an..."

"BUGGER IT!" Cap'n Angus bellowed. "I hae had it! Git back tae th' ship! I'm through wi raidin' thae English! Even when bein' raided thae ha t' be soooooooooooo proper!" He threw his hands up in disgust. "'Do forgive my blade damaging your bonnet.' 'Dreadfully sorry, old chap, but I'm afraid I've slain your first officer.' 'Pardon me, but it's tea time. Shall we resume combat in thirty?' I am sick tae death o' these knobs! Let's gae raid th' Germans again!"

"But the paperwork the Kaiser demands..." Angus cautioned.

"GET BACK TAE TH' SHIP!"

Within seconds the room was clear of Scotsmen, and surprisingly ship shape.

Violet sighed in relief. The pirates were gone, her virtue was intact, and most importantly, the compartment was pristine. Surely the worst was over.

"Miss Jessup." Alfred's voice sounded withering.

"Yes?" Violet responded meekly.

"I see you still fail to grasp even the basics of proper behavior."

"Sir?"

"About the knots of your bindings…"

Violet sighed.


End file.
